Thomas Browning sat in his handsome study, in a complacent frame of mind. The caucus was to be held in the evening, and he confidently expected the nomination for mayor. It was the post he had coveted for a long time. There were other honors that were greater, but the mayoralty would perhaps prove a stepping-stone to them. He must not be impatient. He was only in middle life, and there was plenty of time.
"I didn't dream this when I was a penniless miner in California," he reflected, gleefully. "Fortune was hard upon me then, but now I am at the top of the heap. All my own good management, too. Tom Butler--no, Browning--is no fool, if I do say it myself."
"Someone to see you, Mr. Browning," said the servant.
"Show him in!" replied the philanthropist.
A poorly dressed man followed the maid into the room.
Mr. Browning frowned. He had thought it might be some influential member of his party.
"What do you want?" he asked, roughly.
The poor man stood humbly before him, nervously pressing the hat between his hands.
"I am one of your tenants, Mr. Browning. I am behindhand with my rent, owing to sickness in the family, and I have been ordered out."
"And very properly, too!" said Browning. "You can't expect me to let you stay gratis."
"But sir, you have the reputation of being a philanthropist. It hardly seems the character----"
"I do not call myself a philanthropist--others call me so--and perhaps they are right. I help the poor to the extent of my means, but even a philanthropist expects his honest dues."
"Then you can do nothing for me, sir?"
"No; I do not feel called upon to interfere in your case."
The poor man went out sorrowfully, leaving the philanthropist in an irritable mood. Five minutes later a second visitor was announced.
"Who is it?" asked Browning, fearing it might be an other tenant.
"It is a boy, sir."
"With a message, probably. Show him up."
But Thomas Browning was destined to be surprised, when in the manly-looking youth who entered he recognized the Chicago newsboy who had already excited his uneasiness.
"What brings you here?" he demanded, in a startled tone.
"I don't know if you remember me, Mr. Browning," said Luke, quietly. "Luke Walton is my name, sir, and I have sold you papers near the Sherman House, in Chicago."
"I thought your face looked familiar," said Browning, assuming an indifferent tone. "You have made a mistake in coming to Milwaukee. You cannot do as well her............
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Chapter 39 Luke Walton's Letter
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Chapter 41 Mr. Browning Comes To Terms
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